


rift

by Control_Room



Series: The W-lly Franks Twins [15]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Partial, Past Drug Use, Sick Fic, Suicide Attempt, Tags Contain Spoilers, agruments, kim eska and niamh are random's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 17:17:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16223699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: no one should have known.Wally did, though.Why did he bring it up?





	rift

Grant called Willy down to help clean some graffiti that somehow ended up in his office. When he looked up to see it, the soft, gentle, and tired smile that Willy usually had choppily faded, replaced by a stiff stare.

 

“Ha… ha…” Willy forced, looking over the sign on the wall with a critical eye. He swallowed roughly, hoping Grant wouldn’t notice the sudden shift in his mood. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it. Shouldn’t take me more than a few minutes.”

 

“Are you alright, Franks?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Are you sure—”

 

“I said. I’m. Fine.”

 

*****

 

Willy felt he was going mad. Practically no one could have possibly know that sign, or these… darker parts he covered up. No one in the studio should have known about THAT, so why did a box of syringes tumble off a shelf, landing before his feet? Or the amount and brand of bottle corks, precisely coordinated with his old habits?

 

God, he wanted a cigarette.

 

*****

“Hey babe,” Shawn purred deeply in Willy’s ear, the dark man gasping and leaping out of his skin. Shawn ran his hand down Willy’s arm, sliding his knuckles down his cheek. Willy turned maroon, then colored deeper as Shawn continued. “Heh heh…. Seems like you need ta… relax. I can… _help you_ , tonight….”

 

“Sh-shawn!” Willy yelped, blushing and covering his face in his hands. Shawn smiled wickedly, nuzzling his neck, making sure he felt his smile. “H-hey! Shawn you devil, st-stop that!”

 

“SHAWN I’M TELLING NIAMH!” Kim threatened angrily from the other room, fed up with the Irishman's antics. “Do your damn job!”

 

“Fock ye!” Shawn shot back, leading Willy into Kim’s work area, where Lacie also sat, repairing the sewing machine, Bertrum beside her and explaining a ‘brilliantly extravagant nuance’, Thomas helping with repairs. They turned to face the newcomers. Shawn pointed at Willy, eyes narrowed at Kim. “You.” then himself. “Niamh.”

 

Shawn shoved Willy onto the desk in front of Kim, cloth and cotton winded off the surface, not giving the janitor nor junior toy maker a moment to think, kissing Willy harshly, slipping his tongue in his mouth. Willy rapidly turned cahors, mortified at Shawn’s misconduct, publicly no less! Kim let out a sound that was a mix of indignation, jealousy, and discomfort (mostly discomfort). Shawn grinned against Willy’s mouth, who he felt as though he would implode of embarrassment.Kim inhaled, hands balling into fists, before he got up and dug his nails into Shawn’s shoulders, making him jolt up.

 

“Prepare your ass,” he hissed, and before he could ask what he meant, he flipped him over and suplexed him onto the ground. He somersaulted, landing on his feet.

 

Shawn, shocked at his treatment, sharply got to his feet, only to be greeted by Kim’s knee, and BAM. He was out cold, his nose bleeding a trickle. 

Kim panicked, thinking he killed the Irishman, before Eska swooped in out of nowhere and bore him away to the infirmary. It did seem like he would eat him though.

 

“Oh my God,” quietly came from the desk. “What the hell.”

 

Everyone stared at the bewildered and humiliated Willy, still in a shock on Kim’s desk.

 

“Are ya…” Lacie started, Willy jolting to look at her, falling onto the floor. “Um… you ok, Will?”

 

“Short answer, I’m fine,” he sputtered, stumbling up with a blush so dark it could cause an eclipse. “Long one, asdfghjkl and I need to talk to Shawn.”

 

*****

“What makes you think that kissing me, FRENCH KISSING ME, on someone else’s _desk_ , in front of four people, would help me relax?!” Willy rebutted at Shawn in his loft, tending to him after he woke up from the infirmary. Shawn smiled gently and smoothly, raising an eyebrow, even as his nose bled, using up another tissue. Willy swallowed roughly, realizing the entirety. “You wanted to get me here all to yourself, didn’t you?”

 

“Bingo,” Shawn replied, waiting for his nose to stop bleeding before standing up from the chaise lounge and putting his hands on Willy’s hips, who stepped back. He pulled him close, slipping a leg between Willy’s. “What do ya say to another kiss, mhurnien?”

 

“Shawn you can’t ju--” Willy began, cut off by one of Shawn’s wandering hands, which took his own. Willy darkened as he began to write. “Shawn!”

 

‘I wanna make you beg,’ he lazily ascribed. Willy stiffened. Shawn continued with a grin on his lips. ‘Kiss now. Talk later. Got it?’

 

“Yes sir,” Willy breathed, staring at this incredulously incredible man. Shawn grinned, moving close. He blinked slowly, indicating Willy close the gap. Willy’s eyes narrowed, and pushed him onto the couch, the Irishman’s eyes widening. Willy affixed himself over him, straddling Shawn, yanking him up to kiss him roughly, Shawn gasping at the intensity. Willy growled on his lips; “You play boy, don’t think for a second that I don’t know exactly who you kissed over your trip. I gave you permission, sure, but you know I’m yours, and if I have to remind you that you’re mine, too, so be it.”

 

“Damn, Willy,” Shawn groaned, the sensation of Willy’s body on his and his voice low and dangerous putting him on the edge. “Fuuuck… you’re so hot, so sexy, c’mon, kiss me harder!”

 

“First say you’re mine,” Willy demanded, pulling away with his hands on Shawn’s shoulders, keeping him down. Shawn pouted, not seeing a way out at first, then grinned viciously, rolling his hips up. “Shit! Dammit Shawn!”

 

Willy got off of him, upset and irritated. He raked his hands through his curly hair, Shawn stumbling up and trying to calm the tingling throughout his body. He put a hand on Willy’s shoulder, putting his forehead on his back.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Willy sighed. Shawn kissed the back of his neck. “What’s eating at ya? You’re normally more… chaste? Calm? I don’t know. You need to talk to me, communication is really important, love. I’m yours, remember? I was just teasing earlier, I didn’t mean to get you upset.”

 

“It’s okay,” Willy accepted, turning to hold Shawn. “I’ve… just had a… frustrating day.”

 

“Seems like more than that to me,” Shawn prompted, raising an eyebrow. Willy looked away shamefacedly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

 

“I don’t want it to be him,” Willy whispered after a few moments of silence, voice cracking. Shawn blinked. “But he’s the only one who knows about it….”

 

“What’re ya talkin’ about?”

 

“Shawn, I’m a such horrible person.”

 

“No yer not!”

 

“I am, Shawn, I am!”

 

“Give me one reason fer that!”

 

“I was an addict, Shawn! Drugs, alcohol, you fuckin’ name it! An addict to meth, heroin, opium, everything!”

 

“Y-you…” Shawn stared at Willy, who was on the verge of ludicrous tears. “No. I don’t believe it.”

 

“Shawn, I was!” Willy insisted, showing the Irishman the crook of his elbows. Small pinprick scars were visible. “You need to understand, no one in the studio knows but Wally, and now you! Wally is the only one who could have brought up my past… misdeeds! I don’t want it to be him!”

 

“Hey, hey, deep breath,” Shawn instructed, taking his hands. Willy looked at him miserably, but his expression curiously blanked. “Maybe a warm er hot drink would help, c’mon.”

 

He took him down to the public room, finding the mug marked ‘Willy’, and handing it to the younger twin. Willy smiled at him gratefully, going to fill it, before stopping suddenly and peering within the cup. He seemed to lose all color once more, reaching in to touch it, a white powder on his fingers when they left. Shawn had never seen Willy angry. Now he saw him with his blood boiling.

*****

 

Willy stormed over to Wally. No one had ever seen him so upset with anyone (aside from himself), especially not his brother. Wally was casually leaning against the wall, removing the cigarette in his mouth to blow out some smoke calmly. Willy folded his arms, eyes searching Wally in hopes of an explanation. A smirk slowly edged onto the elder twin’s lips. Willy snapped, gritting his teeth and tearing the cig from his brother’s mouth, throwing it down and grinding it into the concrete with the heel of his boot. Wally merely grinned more. Willy’s eyes filled with tears of rage and frustration. His hands shook by his sides, fisted and angered. Wally waited. Willy waited. It was a tightrope game, and Wally was winning, Willy blinking furiously to keep in his tears. Franks boys don’t cry. Wally lazily looked over him, and he shattered.

 

“HOW FUCKIN’ DARE YOU!?” he seethed, tears streaking his face. “A relapse?! Is that what you want! God, don’t you care about me? Or are you lying every time you say so?!”

 

“Wh- no! Shit!” Wally realized too late he had pushed him too far, smile vanishing as he sputtered. “I do care!”

 

“Then what the hell is this?!” Willy roared, slamming down an orange capsule. “Or this!?” he dumped the corks and beer caps. “And what about these?!” the syringes clattered to the ground. He hurled the mug he had earlier down, shattering it by their feet. “How about that!” He got in Wally’s face. “Do you want me to fuckin’ relapse? Because, congratulations, I do too now! I want to force crack into my veins, I want to drink, I want to do meth, I want to take drugs! For God’s sake, I almost took your cigarette to smoke it myself! I want to fuckin’ get hammered and sky high, but I stopped! For you!”

 

“W-Willy, I-I-I’m sorry!” Wally stuttered, stumbling back over shards of glass, wincing at the tinkle they produced. Willy stared at him, teeth locked, breathing hard and irregular. “Oh… dammit! Shit! Breath with me! C’mon, ya havin’ a panic attack, please relax!”

 

Willy gripped his head, screaming as he lowered to his knees, crouched and loathing. He leapt up suddenly, jumping on the orange pill bottle, flattening it repeatedly.

 

“I hate you!” he shrieked at the plastic, Wally unable to do anything to stop him. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you….” he whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself. He began crying again. “I don’t… I don’t….” his sobs were quieted by his hand, his brother reaching over to him, Willy flinching away. “I only hate me… Wally, Wally, I-I want to die....”

 

“No,” Wally opposed, hand falling to his side uselessly as Willy coughed through his tears. Willy jolted to silence. As painstaking minutes passed, it appeared he calmed down, but appearances aren’t everything. The youngest of the siblings bolted. “No, please! Bro, come back!” Wally pleaded, running after him. “I’m sorry, I swear!”

 

The two sprinted toward the park, Wally faster but having less stamina to keep up. They weaved between trees, Wally begging him to stop. He heard running water, picking up the pace to catch up to his brother, eyes large and terrified, stinging from the rush. Willy made it to the bridge across the waterfall, swinging his leg over. Wally forced himself to go faster, air stinging his lungs. Willy jumped, Wally screaming and leaping to grab him. He caught something. He dared to open his eyes to see Willy, striving to free his wrist from Wally’s iron grip. Tears flowed freely down both brothers faces. Wally heaved him up, kicking and struggling the whole time, towing him over to the moss patches, Willy weeping and beating against Wally’s chest furiously as his brother forced him down onto the ground beneath him, pinning him to the stone and restraining him even as he strived for the waterfall’s cold and soused abyss, the icy and murky waters a lullaby to his exhausted ears.

 

“Please!” he sobbed, struggling under his brother, attempting to throw him off. “I want to jump! Let me die!”

 

“No,” Wally cried quietly, tucking his twin’s head under his chin, ignoring the painful blows to his chest. “No….”

 

“Kill me, then!” Willy implored, grabbing his brother’s collar, grip loose and rigid all at once. Wally froze, hugging Willy tighter after. “Wally, I’m begging you, take the gun from my boot and blow my brains out!”

 

“Never,” Wally vowed. Willy wailed in torment. “I’m never going to hurt you again, especially not… not like this. I’m so sorry. I never should have brought up your past mistakes. You grew so much, an’ I took that for granted, not payin’ attention to the struggle it must be. You’re so strong, Wills… but… p-please, I love ya bro… you can’t… you can’t… please don’t leave me here alone. If you go, I go.”

 

Willy swallowed down sobs, trembling and breathing slowing. He buried his head on his brother’s chest, hearing his heart beat, lulling him to calmness. He slowly wrapped his arms around his brother.

 

“I want to die,” he moaned. Wally’s arms tightened around him. “I… I won’t though… for you.”

 

“I’m sorry I pushed you to this,” Wally whispered into his brother’s hair, inhaling the smell of lavender. He ran his hand down his back soothingly. “Thank you.”

 

They stayed like that for a long time, everytime Willy thinking he had stopped crying only bringing a new wave, Wally whispering encouragement and apologies. Eventually dusk crept upon them, and Willy sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Wally rose as well, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Willy slumped forwards, leaning on him, exhausted. Wally saw it, for once. How tired his brother really was, the dull light in his eyes flickering. How wretched he truly was, his head hung low.

 

“Willy, I owe you so much, and it’s about time I pay off some of it,” Wally quietly remarked. Willy peered at him. “Take a few days off. Go out of town for a little bit. Relax, clear your head. Just… promise me one thing.”

 

“What?” Willy asked hoarsely. “You know I don’t really do ‘promises’.”

 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wally muttered, looking out into the water. He returned a glance to his brother, lowering his head. “Please.”

 

“... oh. Ok.” Willy exhaled. “I’ll tr-- I promise.”

 

“Thank you,” Wally whispered, hugging him. “Thank you so much.”

 

“Wally?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I love you, bro.”

 

“Me too, Wills. I love you too.”

 

*****

 

“Hey… Shawn?” Wally’s voice, quietly for once, resounded through the toy department. “I need to talk to ya.”

 

“What’s up Wally?” Shawn asked, sauntering out of his workroom. His eyebrows rose and furrowed when he beheld the miserable man. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Willy’s gone outta town fo’ a bit, he asked me to tell ya,” he began choppily, then grinned lopsidedly. “Also wanted to apologize for that… kinda is my fault, ya know. Ha, I mean… shit. I screwed up. I need help to fix it. Do ya think you can help me out a bit?”

 

“I’ll try in any way I can,” Shawn promised. “Just… maybe you should calm down a bit. It might do you good.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah,” he seemed distracted. “Uh, he also said you should invite Kim over. Not sure why.”

 

*****

 

Wally heard the door close behind him with a click and shnick of the lock being twisted into place. He spun around to face Thomas and Sammy. Thomas was wearing his usual sepia tank top, Sammy opting for a t shirt. He scowled, turning away.

 

“So ya ignore me all day, then let yaselves inta my house?” Wally grumbled, heading to the kitchen. Sammy and Thomas exchanged a quick glance. “Dickwads.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be able to change your mind,” Sammy melodiously hummed. They drew Wally back so he was between them, Thomas’ hand on one shoulder and Sammy’s on the other. Their hands slid down to grip his wrists, firmly but gently. They stepped into Wally’s field of vision. He glanced between them nervously. Sammy snapped off Wally’s suspenders, throwing them to land on the couch in the living room. “What do you think, Thomas? Can we, you and I together, change dear Wally’s mind? I’m… more than confident that we can.”

 

“I agree, and I would say so,” Thomas grinned, coming more into Wally’s space. He stepped back, and they followed. He moved back another two steps, until he felt the wall on his back. Thomas’ breath ghosted over his skin, then his lips. His breathing stuttered. “I would definitely say so, Sammy.”

 

“To—” Wally began, hoping to talk himself out of the situation, but Thomas’ lips were on his before he could even finish saying his name. His hand was on his chest, pushing him against the wall. Sammy’s free hand slid up his leg. They pinned his hands to the wall, Thomas holding his above his head, and Wally was being driven mad. He wanted to yank Thomas closer, that cheeky bastard, as he only kissed Wally on and around his mouth, his beard gently scratching him. Wally could practically feel his smirk. The three had long before decided on who was the best kisser, and what type of kisser each one was, and Tom was a sensualist, but not a pleaser (none of them were). He did what he wanted. In the meantime Sammy was kissing up his arm, starting from his hypersensitive hands (a trait shared with Willy) and going down to his neck, then up his cheek. He squirmed against the wall. Sammy rubbed the pocket of his jeans lazily, knowing exactly what the man wanted, and holding it tantalizingly close, but one inch out of reach. Thomas darted his tongue into his mouth, pulling away to have his lips captured briefly by Sammy. Wally, since he could finally breathe, sucked in a shaky breath, eyes snapping open as Sammy moved his hand suddenly to press him, making him let out a moan. He flushed at the look his loves gave him, knowing and teasing. “Sammy, fu—”

 

“Shh,” the musician cut him off from saying the explicative, putting his hand over his mouth. Wally keened at the loss of pressure. Sammy looked over him as Thomas kissed his neck, almost as an apology for whatever might happen next. They both knew Sammy to be a taker, a patient taker, but a taker nonetheless. If he wanted your lips, he’d get ‘em, and the same rule applied to teeth and tongue. And he wouldn’t care how he’d get ‘em, if it meant stamping on your foot to make you gasp, so be it. He pressed his lips to Wally’s, sliding his tongue over his lower lip, and Wally swallowed back a groan. He wasn’t going to give Sammy the satisfaction of unraveling him so quickly, no way. He felt Sammy frown, trying again. This time, Wally teased him by flashing a smile, pressing his lips together before Sammy could slip his tongue in. He scowled, losing patience. He moved his hand sharply, Wally’s breath hitching from the sudden disappearance in mass. Then Sammy, just as quickly, slammed his hand back. Wally grit his teeth as he writhed, head thrown back and arms straining against his boyfriends’. Spite kept him from turning into a begging mess. He dropped his head, inhaling and exhaling rapidly from his nose as Sammy removed his hand, resting it on his leg, narrowing his eyes at Wally’s insolence to his demands. “Thomas. Bite him. Hard.”

 

“Sammy, wait,” he murmured. Thomas moved his hand from his chest, brushing some of Wally’s curls back. “Are you ok? Can you give us a color?”

 

“M’fine,” he shakily said. “Green yellow.”

 

“Should we slow down?” Sammy asked softly. God he loved them both. Even when they could easily and obviously take him by all means, they still checked if he was ok with what was happening. He shook his head. “Verbal, please, just in case. We’ll continue after your answer.”

 

“No, don’t slow down,” he huffed, but grinned. He missed the wink Thomas gave Sammy, slowly moving back to Wally’s neck, teeth flashing in a smile. “I was rather enjoyin’ messin’ with ya-Ah! Tohhhhhmmm! Nngh, ya tricked me!”

 

“That he did,” Sammy smirked before catching Wally’s lips, sliding his tongue in, pressing Wally against the wall roughly, Thomas’ hand shoving him back as well. The dark skinned man fought back briefly, before dissolving into moans and whines. He felt both of them grinning against his skin. Sammy did not give him one moment of respite, exploring both body and mouth, claiming every inch, and at the same time, Thomas was his partner in the conquest, preventing him from relaxing, hands forced away. The instant Sammy pulled away, leaving him trembling and with a groan, Thomas snatched the musician’s lips. He seemed surprised, but Tom had already caught him. He swooned into the kiss, Wally inhaling as much as he could while they distracted each other. Thomas’  hand gripped his hand sharply, making him gasp, but he tried to stifle it as much as he could, so as to not regain the attention of the other two just then. Sammy’s hand left his wrist to entangle in Thomas’ hair, neither of them noticing Wally’s smirk. He now had a free hand, which put him at an advantage. He contemplated his options rapidly. He pinched Thomas’ side, him yelping and leaping away. He and Sammy looked at each other, then at Wally’s insolent smirk. The two took his arms once more, quick as lightning, spinning him so rapidly that he turned dizzy, him collapsing on the couch with a still turning head. His two boyfriends towered over him. Sammy scowled at his grin. “What’re you smirking at, Wally.”

 

“The fact that Thomas is probably more turned on by you than me,” they stared at him, “Which means he’s the middle man.”

 

“Hey, Sammy,” Thomas began, slowly raising the suspenders he grabbed from the floor. Wally paled. “Do you think he can take both of us?”

 

“Uh, guys, hold u--”

 

That was the last thing he said clearly that night.

 

*****

 

Kim hesitated before knocking on Shawn’s door. No answer, good, maybe-

 

“Oh! Hey Kim!” Shawn greeted from behind him. _Great_. “C’mon in, make yerself comfortable.”

 

“Thanks,” he said dryly, looking around. Shawn’s apartment was classy and comfortable, and even had a colored TV. It was a home, but more sleek and in the top of modernization. “Nice place you got here.”

 

“Ha! Thank ye, laddie,” Shawn chuckled from the kitchen. “Beer? Wine? Soda? What can I get you?”

 

“I don’t suppose you have strawberry vodka,” he snorted. To his utter surprise a shot glass filled with the stuff was handed to him, the bottle set on the table before him. “Wow. I, uh, didn’t realize you had this stuff.”

 

“Willy doesn’t appreciate my abundance of liquor,” he laughed, plopping down beside him with a mint gin in hand. He shrugged, grinning as he took a sip. “What can I say, I’m feckin’ Irish.”

 

“What’s that on the table?” Kim asked, pointing at a wrapped box on the table in the kitchen. Shawn perked up, not having realized it was there. He got up to grab it. In Willy’s neat script was written ‘have fun!’. Shawn opened it and gasped. “What is it?”

 

“Holy shit!” Shawn grinned, pulling out a console. “Kim, have you ever played a video game?”

 

Kim’s eyes lit up.

*****

 

Thunder crashed, four days later. Thomas jumped as the lights flickered out. Rain poured outside. Wally was just as gloomy as the day before, and nothing his boyfriends did could cheer him up. But as the lights turned off, so did the mechanical whirl of the building. Everyone heard Joey shout; “Fuck!”

Then panic broke out. Susie shrieked and grabbed Allison, Sammy sighing as the entire orchestra began playing Tchaikovsky’s 1812 overture, the thunder hitting every note it should. Jack ran into the room, leaping into his best friend’s arms, Johnny laughing at him on Sammy’s shoulders. Shawn’s swearing and Niamh’s rang throughout the building, Eska vanishing. Kim wished he stayed home that day. Grant and Norman came up the stairs, holding onto each other to not fall. Lacie and Bertrum were heard arguing over if they should go upstairs, and Lacie faltered silent, moments later the entire department was in the orchestra room, where the emergency lights had kicked in, Lacie pale, as though all the fun in a black out had vanished. Bertrum pursed his lips. Kim came along, dragging with him a squabbling Irish duo. The animators showed up next, Henry at the forefront. Joey appeared, heavily leaning on his cane, his legs aching as a constant reminder of the polio virus slowly overcoming him. Bertrum looked at him, at first with despise, then softer, with a slight pity. The pain in his legs grew less.

 

“What now?” Jack whimpered.

 

“Now Thomas passes me that jumpstart cable,” Willy said, head poking out of the ceiling, curls sweeping downwards. Exclamations and greetings rang out. Thomas, quivering in fear of the dark, passed him the cable. “Thanks.”

 

He vanished, but within five minutes the lights flicked on, and they heard him shout, “Praise Marina, and thank fuck Gonnor put on safety valves!”

 

He returned, hair a poof, part of his shirt on fire, and they saw he was drenched and looking exhausted, but with a soft smile. And then he sneezed. Bertrum held in a laugh. Nothing could sneeze and look so bewildered and surprised afterwards so much like Willy did in that moment. He shook his head, Shawn giggling and sweeping him off his feet.

 

“You’ve got a cold, mhuirnin,” he teased, the dark man staring at him indignantly. “Oh, dearest, how did you get s--”  


“I’m not sick!” he quickly denied, pouting in the Irishman’s arms. Wally snorted, making him glare at his older brother. “I am heal- ACHOO!”

 

“If you can still stand in an hour, then you can stay and work,” Wally grinned. Willy relaxed. That would be easy. He accepted; “It’s on, bro.”

 

*****

Okay, so what if he was a little sicker than he thought. He was fine… probably. Still, minutes slid by like grease. He groaned, feeling hot and cold all over. Wally’s face, smug, peered around the corner.

 

“Still going, little brother?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Dude, you look like you’re about to vomit.”

 

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

 

“No, I’m serious.”

 

“I’m not going to throw u--”

 

The words died in his throat as bile rose, and he rushed to the bathroom, Wally laughing at him as he threw up. He flipped him off, but his brother sat beside him, rubbing his back, something their father would do if one was sick.

 

“You okay?” he asked him.

 

“Fuck no,” he grumbled, heaving again.

 

“You gonna go home now?”

 

“Fine.”

 

“How about Shawn goes with you?” Joey asked, peering in. Willy blinked. “Yes or no, Franks.”

 

Wally sighed as Willy threw up again, unable to answer.

 

“It’ll be a yes,” he replied for his twin. “And with a polite little thank you, eh?”

 

He was punched in the stomach.

*****

 

Shawn glanced into the room (his room, they decided against Wally and Willy’s place), Willy shivering in his sleep. Shawn quietly made his way over to him, slipping into the bed and pulling him onto him. He curled up in his lap, face flushed and hot. Willy groaned, Shawn holding him gently. The sick man mumbled something about being sorry, and Shawn told him he didn’t need to be sorry for anything. He yawned, drifting off with Willy in his arms. He woke up, blankets tucked around him, but Willy was not in the bed. He was in the living room, looking out the window onto the downpour. Shawn wrapped his arms around him, kissing the back of his neck and urging him back to bed, bringing him tea and a bottle of pills for his cold. Willy looked at him as though he were an angel, his eyes not completely focused as though he weren’t seeing him proper.

 

“You have wonderful wings, Shawn,” he mumbled into his chest. “Fly well and fare far, love. I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” he whispered, holding him through his fever dreams. “Get better, Willy.”

*****

 

It took less than a day for him to get back on his feet, recovering overnight. That following day he promised a surprise for Shawn the next week. Shawn grinned simply and kissed him, asking if he wanted to be ‘sick’ another day. His smile was an answer enough, and he curled up beside him with a giggle.

 

Life wasn’t always great, but it was moments like this that made it worthwhile. Also, now that his pet project was done, finished as the rain began, he could conduct an entrance to a new era. He asked Shawn what he thought about kids. He laughed, confessing he always wanted a daughter, or a son, but a daughter more by a hair, his face lighting up and soft. He asked Willy why he asked. Willy said that he was just wondering, and kissed him.

 

Some adventures had yet to begin, but he had finally earned enough to make them start.

*****

 

Wally greeted him nervously, then embraced him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I guess… I just wanted to test you.”

 

“Test me?” Willy asked, looking at him as though he were a strange sort of bug. “On what, perchance?”

 

“Do you know what day it is?”

 

Silence.

 

“It’s been ten years.”

 

“Since… since what?”

 

“You’ve been sober and clean for ten years.”

 

Willy’s face cleared, full recognition spreading across it. He laughed.

 

“You ass!” he guffawed. “You could have just offered me a cigarette, and that would have been the end of ya test!"


End file.
